Words Whispered In the Dark
by A Gold Guitar Charm
Summary: "Izzy, Max's death wasn't your fault." - A Simon/Isabelle one shot when Simon is the only one she lets into her bedroom, and he comforts her about her loss. Takes place in CoG.


**A/N:** I tried my best to make this sad, but I wrote this at two a.m. I hope you enjoy though :)

_I don't own anything._

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Simon made his way to the Lightwood's, a million thoughts running through his mind. Would Isabelle be happy to see him? Or would she just push him away and feel like a love-struck idiot for showing up like that, because he cared and couldn't bear to see her sad?

He arrived at the Institute in what felt like no time, but according to his watch was twenty minutes. He wandered down the hallway, using his super sonic hearing to pick up any decibel of sound behind the seemingly endless closed doors. Simon then heard sobs from the other side of a thick oak wood door on his left. Simon then lightly rapped his knuckles against the wood. "Isabelle?" The sobs immediately stopped.

"Go away Simon!" There was a shifting of objects before her voice emerged again. "Jace! Alec! Tell Simon to leave." No response. Simon cleared his throat. "Isabelle... there's no one here except for you and me." He heard her footsteps shuffle against what sounded like a hardwood floor, until they stopped on the other side of the door. "Please go away, I want to be alone," her voice pleaded. "I'm not going anywhere Izzy. I abandoned everyone else, this late at night to come see if you were okay, because I'm worried about you." "You are?" Isabelle's eyes widened although Simon couldn't see.

"Of course I am, now let me in, _please_?" Simon then heard the bolt unlock, and the door swung open, revealing a visibly harrowed Isabelle. There were no lights on in her room, but Simon had no problem seeing her. She was clad in a black dress, her hair disheveled and feet bare. The only colour coming from that of her Marks, the silver of the old, the black of the new.

Simon had never seen her this natural, but something about it made her look even more beautiful. She closed the door and re-bolted the lock, as Simon surveyed the current state of her bedroom. There were clothes everywhere: on the floor, on the headboard, on the dresser, her clothes looking like blotches of paint in the dark. His eyes followed Isabelle as she sat on her bed, the thick red duvet that was hanging hazardously on one side of the bed, threatening to fall. He then kicked off his shoes and socks, and sat on her bed, counting the space between them: 35 centimeters. He could practically feel the heat radiating from her.

"I should have listened to Max, it was probably that stupid bastard Sebastian climbing the tower, and I - I had the nerve to send him back to bed!" "Izzy, Max's death wasn't your fault." Isabelle turned to look at Simon, fresh tears cascading atop the old ones. "I should of stopped him before he even got the hammer within his possession and -" Simon took Isabelle's face in his hands, feeling the thick strands of her inky black hair tickle his palms.

"You did not kill Max Izzy, you almost died when he struck you, you couldn't save his life because you were too busy fighting for yours." Isabelle stared intently into Simon's black pupils. "Then why am I so overwhelmingly crushed with guilt?" "Because you were present when the whole thing occurred and he was the last thing you saw before you blacked out."

Isabelle turned away from Simon, ashamed for him to see her in this fragile, vulnerable state. "Thanks for the pep talk, you can go now," she says, fighting to keep her voice steady. "I already told you Izzy, I'm not going anywhere." He gently played with the strands of hair that fell down her back, his fingers brushing against the exposed skin of her back. "Simon, I don't want you to see me like this, it's - It's embarrassing " "Isabelle, I don't _care_ if you don't want me to see you like this, I came here for you and only you, and that's what I have right now just you. I'd still stay here even if you had a contagious disease that killed Downworlders."

Isabelle then turned around, looking into his eyes, are her own were holding more tears that were threatening to spill, and caved into his rock hard chest, - but was feather soft to her - and sobbed, feeling Simon's arms wrap around her protectively, as if he could shield her from all the pain, grief and suffering that was crushing her heart, her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. He petted her hair, his fingers getting caught in the knots. "Shh. I'm here just let it all out, I'm here you're safe, nothing's going to hurt you," he whispered into her hair, his voice soft; soothing.

They stayed in that position for what seemed like hours, in the heavy darkness of her room. When her sobs subsided, she hid her face in his shoulder. "Thank you, for staying, for everything." "Of course Izzy, you don't need to thank me." She sat up, "Do you know what I need? A Distraction." The vampire's mouth went dry. "What kind of distraction?" And before Simon could even blink, Isabelle's lips had found his in the darkness. Simon's fingers fluttered against her back, as he tasted the salt of her tears. Simon then felt Isabelle's hands lock at his neck, bringing his supernatural form closer to hers. As much as Simon didn't want to he broke away from Izzy. "I - I don't think this is a good idea right now." Isabelle's eyes shone with emotion in the darkness.

"Why not?" Simon placed a hand on her cheek. "Because you're hurting, and you just want to forget about those feeling, so that you don't have to remember anything, and that's not a healthy coping strategy." Isabelle registered his words, memorizing what he'd just said for future purposes.

"I'm sorry I kissed you," Isabelle spoke, her voice small. "Don't apologize. If I helped you forget about the sadness in your heart for even just five seconds, I'm glad you kissed me." Something in Isabelle sparked, and began to burn like a low flame. She was starting to feel something for Simon Lewis. The way he cared deeply for her was something having never experienced with her previous flings and she liked it. While Simon on the other hand had always felt something for Isabelle, when he say her for the first time here at the Institute.

"Simon?" "Yeah, Iz?" "Cuddle Me?" Wordlessly, Simon opened his arms and waited as Isabelle arranged herself in a comfortable position, her head lying on his chest, and her hand right on the spot where his heart once beat. He then pulled the red duvet over her body, and kissed her forehead while listening to the sound her breathing as sleep took her over, the chorus of a song he'd heard on his sister's iPod echoing through his mind.

_I belong with you, you belong with me you're my sweetheart._


End file.
